The journey from Craymoor had been relatively quiet. The morning stretched lazily as Krau and Liria followed the dusty path away from the small trading village. They encountered no other travelers; only birds flying over the fields and the wind's murmur.
Krau walked with a neutral expression, scrutinizing the map purchased the previous day.
—Can you read this? —he asked without looking at her.
Liria shook her head, a bit embarrassed.
—No... I never learned. In the temple, they taught us other things.
Krau sighed.
—Perfect. No map, no direction, no sense of the real world. —He rolled up the parchment—. I wonder if Corvus expected you to die on the road.
Liria furrowed her brow, but said nothing.
They advanced for several hours until they saw a crossroads where a decaying wooden signpost indicated various routes. Beyond, a small inn rose along the road, modest but welcoming. Krau said nothing, but turned towards the door without waiting for an opinion.
—We're going to have something to drink. And eat. I don't want to hear that you faint on the journey.
The interior smelled of hot bread and old beer. Few customers: two merchants arguing over prices, a man sleeping on a table, and the innkeeper cleaning glasses with a bored gesture.
Krau sat at a table by the window. Liria settled opposite, observing the environment with timidity.
They ordered bread, cheese, and two jugs of water.
—Then... —Liria said cautiously— What now? Where are we going?
Krau spread the map on the table, tracing the route with his finger.
—Molvar. Three days from here. A waypoint before entering elven territory. It's the last significant human city before the border.
Before Liria could respond, a voice interrupted from the adjacent table.
—Molvar? You won't want to go there, stranger.
Krau looked up. It was one of the merchants, a corpulent man with a gray beard, with a shrewd look.
—Why? —Krau asked with a dry tone.
The merchant leaned towards his table.
—Molvar has fallen.
Liria furrowed her brow, confused.
—Fallen? How can that be?
—Destroyed. Razed. It's been four days. Everyone on the road is talking about it. —The man took a sip of beer—. Ash beasts, they say. Dark magic. The sky darkened... The defenses were useless. Neither the walls, nor the towers. Everything was reduced to dust.
Krau leaned his elbows on the table, his gaze fixed on the merchant.
—Molvar had the best defenses in the region. What kind of attack brought it down in a day?
The merchant shrugged his shoulders.
—Rumors. Some say it was the work of a mad cult. Others... of a demon. No one knows. The truth is that the smoke is still visible from the northern hills.
Liria looked at Krau with concern.
—What does that mean? —she whispered.
For the first time, Krau spoke without evasion.
—Molvar was our first stop. I thought we would resupply there... spend the night. And now it's... erased.
Liria paled.
—If we hadn't had those delays...
Krau nodded silently.
—Yes. We would have arrived in the midst of the disaster.
The merchant watched them as they paid.
—Be careful, strangers. The east is no longer safe. And the fire of Molvar... still burns.
They left the inn with the sky covered, the wind from the north bringing a distant smell of smoke and ash.
That night they camped under some dry oaks. The fire crackled beneath Krau's watchful gaze while Liria tried to lull herself to sleep.
But her mind found no rest.
The images returned: the ash beasts she didn't remember seeing before, the dark figures bowing before her in a circle, as if worshiping something... or someone.
Her body in dreams moved alone, walking towards a great black door...
She woke up startled, sweating.
The sky was still dark. Krau was sleeping a few meters away, sword in hand.
Liria pulled her cloak around herself.
She didn't understand what she was dreaming.
But she knew something —something very old— was watching her.
In silence, she closed her eyes again, unsure if the dream would return.